


Headrest

by yeaka



Category: Red Riding Hood (2011)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:14:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22367752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: The wolf comes home for the night.
Relationships: Peter/Valerie (Red Riding Hood)
Kudos: 51





	Headrest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Red Riding Hood or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

One of the most poignant tests of Peter’s self control is the doorknob—it’s not at all an easy thing to use when he has paws instead of hands. He used his teeth once, and that was marginally simpler, but he chipped the door in the process, and Valerie loves this old house. So he fumbles at it with just his blunted claws. He could transform back, but he’s already so exhausted from the hunt that once he expends that energy, he’ll be _done_. He has no desire to fall asleep on the doorstep.

The woman inside is too wonderful for that. Peter craves her like nothing else. He drags dead animals right to the stairs but leaves them there, the blood still in his mouth, and clamps down all the triumphant growls he wants to release because the stars are already out. She’ll likely be asleep. Peter won’t disturb her. 

Peter makes his way inside still in his secondary form—the large, hulking beast that used to terrify their village. He drags snow across the threshold and pads past the raging fire, still flickering on, keeping the whole house warm enough to survive the winter. Peter considers blowing it out, because Valerie won’t need any other heat once she has him lying beside her. But he knows she likes to wake up to the smell of burning embers, so he leaves it going. 

He follows that low firelight to the bedroom, and then he comes around the bed, climbing onto it—he’s had to reinforce it several times so it can take his weight. He’s filed down his claws just for this—so he won’t tear the bedding. So he won’t accidentally scratch her. Valerie’s tucked beneath the covers, sleeping soundly, her gorgeous face like that of an angel. Peters noses under the blankets and sidles up as close to her as possible. Her expression falters as his thick fur tickles her bare skin, but she doesn’t wake. Peter tucks in right at her side. 

Valerie makes a humming noise. Her body subconsciously slides closer. Peter’s muzzle sets down just beneath the pillow, pressed against her collarbone and breast. He can hear her heartbeat, calling to him like tribal drums. His tail flicks protectively over her thigh, one foreleg landing across her side. He doesn’t have the energy to transform anymore—perhaps he’ll do it in the morning, or some time in the night; he might just wake up a man again with his woman in his arms. 

His quiet panting must have stirred her, because she murmurs a sleep addled, “Welcome home, Peter.”

He whines softly, because if he opens his muzzle, he’ll yelp too loudly. She smiles like she understands. Her pretty eyes fall closed again, and they fall asleep just as they do everything else: together.


End file.
